Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death

Resurrection, imperfect.

SLeep sleep old Sun, thou canst not have repast As yet, the wound thou took'st on friday last; Sleepe then, and rest; The world may beare thy stay, A better Sun rose before thee to day, Who, not content to'enlighten all that dwell On the earths face, as thou, enlightned hell, And made the darke fires languish in that vale, As, at thy presence here, our fires grow pale. Whose body having walk'd on earth, and now Hasting to Heaven, would, that he might allow Himselfe unto all stations, and fill all, For these three daies become a minerall; Hee was all gold when he lay downe, but rose All tincture, and doth not alone dispose Leaden and iron wills to good, but is Of power to make even sinfull flesh like his. Had one of those, whose credulous pietie Thought, that a Soule one might discerne and see▪

Goe from a body, 'at this sepulcher been, And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen, He would have justly thought this body a soule, If, not of any man, yet of the whole.

Desunt caetera.